The Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey, Volume 1

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Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1849

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Page 255 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Page 252 - He would pronounce the word Damn with such an emphasis as left a doleful echo in his auditors
Page 210 - He is of most uncommon merit, — of the strongest genius, the clearest judgment, the best heart. My friend he already is, and must hereafter be yours.
Page 220 - He told me that the strength of my imagination had intoxicated my reason, and that the acuteness of my reason had given a directing influence to my imagination.
Page 311 - She has made me in love with a cold climate, and frost and snow, with a northern moonlight.
Page 74 - Is it, my dear ?' was her reply. ' Yes,' I continued, ' for you know you have only to think what you would say if you were in the place of the characters, and to make them say it.
Page 219 - MY BROTHER! I am longing to be with you. Make Edith my sister. Surely, Southey, we shall be frendotatoi meta frendous — most friendly where all are friends. She must, therefore, be more emphatically my sister.
Page 243 - Edmund, we did not err! Our best affections here, They are not like the toys of infancy ; The soul outgrows them not; We do not cast them off; Oh, if it could be so, It were indeed a dreadful thing to die.
Page 242 - Often together have we talk'd of death ; How sweet it were to see All doubtful things made clear; How sweet it were with powers Such as the Cherubim, To view the depth of heaven ! 0 Edmund ! thou hast first Begun the travel of eternity ! I look upon the stars, And think that thou art there, Unfetter'd as the thought that follows thee.
Page 243 - Not to the grave, not to the grave, my Soul, Follow thy friend beloved ! But in the lonely hour, But in the evening walk, Think that he companies thy solitude ; Think that he holds with thee Mysterious intercourse ; And though remembrance wake a tear, There will be joy in grief.

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